The page is blank, words are few

my Muse still pesters my soul,

to continue to write, stay the course,

" let pen guide ink"  I know I know

Like a corpse rotting in a morgue

mind and body are blank space,

yet I know like Lazarus

even the right word can freshen my face

Lines are formed, my heart is glad,

tho people still wonder about me,

where I get such a vivid imagination,

when I etch my soul in Poetry?

I hear wolves howling in my mind

pussy willows purring forevermore,

Passion burns behind Blue eyes,

before me is an Open Door

Mind to paper, paper to ink

words like windmills in my mind,

let now slip the Dogs of Poetry,

I see the Poet I was meant to find